By My Side
by everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: WARNING: SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR S2E10! After S2E9 and E10 I feel a glimmer of hope is in the air for our beloved nerds. We catch a glimpse of Fitz and Jemma clinging to one another in the dying moments of the episode. Here's what I like to think might happen next (Ch 8). "By My Side" is a series of one-shots written after most eps of S2 writing Fitz and Simmons back TOGETHER!
1. Chapter 1

**By My Side**

_S2, E3 SPOILERS: Now that Fitz has encountered Skye's asset, there is no doubt in his mind as to the identity of Coulson's mysterious source within HYDRA. Being underestimated by everyone has its advantages. No one imagines him capable of finding her. (This is all because I am NOT COPING with Fitzsimmons being apart. Holding it together by writing copious amounts of Fitzsimmons fluff for anyone else in the same boat!)_

_..._

Utterly failing to keep dry under the recently purchased carton of milk she held uselessly over her head, Undercover S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Jemma Simmons sprinted back to her apartment through the heavy rain that she felt sure ten minutes previously there had been absolutely no sign of. Meteorology had never been her field.

After soggily navigating lifts and corridors, keys and locks, she stood for a moment, catching her breath and dripping silently into a puddle on her parquet floor.

Then she heard it. A fortnight ago she would have reached for her Icer and flattened herself against the wall. Now she just smiled to herself. Finally, a chance to talk to someone she didn't have to lie to, and over a decent meal at that. And if she played her cards right, maybe this time she could get Coulson to finally give her some real information about Fitz.

Since she left the team, the only thing she really wanted news about was Fitz. He was in the back of her mind all day at work, and in her total social vacuum without him, all her leisure time was spent researching the effects of hypoxia and planning a recovery program that she hoped one day soon to be able to administer to him herself.

It was in the moments of darkness just before she fell asleep each night that she found herself confronted by the extreme frustration of knowing herself to be in love with someone who knew himself to be in love with her and having all of the circumstances of their existence making it futile, or perhaps even a liability, for her to even let him know.

…

In Jemma's kitchen stood a man who was _not_ S.H.I.E.L.D Director Phil Coulson. He blinked hard at the large photograph affixed to her fridge door with a sparkly red love-heart magnet. If the inhabitant of this apartment lived a normal life, a visitor like himself would have assumed the man with her in the photo was her boyfriend. But the man in the photo was _him_.

In the moments since he'd seen Jemma leave, Fitz had let himself in, jemmying the window with a shaky hand, and taken himself on a tour of the apartment he wasn't supposed to know existed. He'd found all of the medical journals spread across her bed, the hypoxia recovery case studies so highlighted and annotated that the original text was barely legible. He had lifted her swathes of hand-written notes to his chest and almost embraced them. All over the pages, dotted here and there throughout her notes, in her scientist's scrawl, Jemma had written his name. He felt teary and so deeply gratified, to be here in her space, where he had imagined himself to be simply absent, and find himself such a tangible presence. Just the knowledge that she hadn't abandoned him, that she made so much room for him in her thoughts and in her emotions, brought a peace to his mind that he hadn't felt since the day she'd left. He knew now that he could go, that he could be satisfied not to know any more. He knew now, with a beautiful certainty, that however long it was that they had to be apart, Jemma would come back to him. He turned back to the window through which he'd come. Then he heard the key turn in the lock. He froze.

"Hi, Sir!" he heard her call cheerfully. "You haven't brought me more kale, have you? I smiled politely last time but I don't think I can face it again!"

Fitz had gotten out of the habit of making witty comebacks. His moment by moment struggles to even name objects right in front of him had made good punch lines hard to come by. But Jemma was suddenly in earshot, standing just out of his line of sight and the fog in his brain had all but gone.

"I find anything can be improved by just a hint of pesto aioli," he replied, and before he'd even finished his sentence she was there in his arms, squeezing him so tightly around his neck, he could barely breathe. "Hang on, hang on," he laughed. "This brain needs more oxygen than most, remember?"

"Oh, Fitz," she sighed, stepping back to look into his eyes. Even though she was dripping wet, and she wore the warm smile he had so keenly felt the loss of, he could determine the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"God, I've missed you, Jemma," he whispered.

And then somehow, before he exactly knew how it happened, she was in his arms again and she was _kissing_ him and he was not complaining, not one little bit. He had never anticipated his little break-and-enter to head in this direction.

"How long do we have?" she asked, somewhat breathlessly, her forehead pressed against his.

"I have no idea," he shrugged, struggling to catch his breath too. "I just walked out and came to find you." He grinned. "Seems it was worth my while."

"Then let's not waste any time," she whispered, taking his hand and heading through the apartment towards her bedroom.

Fitz's eyes widened but he dutifully allowed her to lead him wherever her heart desired. It was straight to the bed. She indicated for him to sit by smiling coyly and applying gentle pressure to his shoulders. Fitz's eyes grew wider still as Simmons knelt on the floor in front of him and began slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He had a million things to say but words failed to form themselves into anything coherent. At least this time he knew that hypoxia had nothing to do with it. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. His shirt felt like it was all the way undone. What next? Surely he was dreaming. He opened his eyes to check.

There was Simmons, adjusting the headset of her stethoscope and giving the chest piece a brisk polish before she applied it to his skin. Fitz let out the breath he'd been holding.

"How have you been?" she asked, sympathetically.

He almost laughed out loud. "Jemma, my brain is a bit unreliable these days. Were you or were you not just kissing me a second ago?"

She smiled at him sweetly. "I _was_ kissing you a second ago. It was very nice. I should have taken that up a long time ago."

"I heartily agree!" Fitz nodded. "But then you asked me how long we had," he counted on his fingers. "Led me to your bedroom, sat me on your bed and unbuttoned my shirt!"

Jemma blushed furiously as she slid the cold chest piece over Fitz' sternum. "Ahh, I can see how you might have got the wrong end of the stick there."

He gestured towards her headset. "To be honest, this feels much more _you_."

Jemma smiled, still focused on the stethoscope. "Don't be too quick to rule anything out."

Fitz's face conveyed his return to the state of surprise. "No, let's not do anything hasty."

She looked up to find his eyes with hers. "I hadn't worked it out yet… when we were at the bottom of the ocean…" Her voice trailed off.

"Worked what out?"

"That I'm in love with you too, Fitz." Without warning, she pressed her lips once more to his, dropping the stethoscope and placing her warm hands against his bare flesh.

A second became a minute, a minute an hour, then two, then three, then more. Before either one of them gave even a thought to the time passing, they found themselves lying still in one another's arms bathed in the moonlight that streamed through the window and across Jemma's bed, illuminting the clothes, journals, notes and the stethoscope strewn across the floorboards.

In the moments of darkness just before she fell asleep, Jemma found herself confronted by the extreme delight of knowing herself to be in love with someone who knew himself to be in love with her. She lay in his arms, her ear pressed to his chest, the sound of his heartbeat reassuringly robust.

Fitz was ever so quietly finding himself to be the happiest man alive. Jemma was where she had always been whenever things had been right with him, and she was now, in a different and even better way, exactly where he wanted her to remain forever.

_By my side._


	2. Chapter 2

_Still no closer to a Fitzsimmons reunion, I entertain myself with this parallel universe in which Simmons is back from HYDRA (perhaps after the events of my previous chapter?) and, as a consequence, Fitz is getting back to his old self…_

Director Phil Coulson, long-term Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and universal law enforcer of no small consequence, was pretty adept at noticing when something was up. He rapped smartly on the opaque back window of the black SUV parked next to his ailing Lola. A moment of muffled scuffling passed before the dark glass slid away to reveal the slightly flushed visage of Agent Jemma Simmons. Next to her on the back seat, attempting to look nonchalant, was an equally flushed Agent Leo Fitz.

As much as he was aware of the deep inconvenience, and even danger, of having two agents romantically involved within such a small team, Coulson couldn't help but be delighted for Fitzsimmons. And the recent leaps and bounds in Fitz' health and productivity in the mere fortnight since Simmons had returned had been beneficial for everyone. Nonetheless he summoned his least sympathetic tone.

"Care to explain yourselves, Fitzsimmons?"

"Err, we were… um… running a simulation, sir," Simmons began.

"… to, err… test the limits of my claustrophobia," Fitz finished. He smiled brightly. "A few more hours of this and I reckon I'll be cured for life!"

Simmons coughed.

Coulson smiled inwardly. Had he not witnessed so much of their unmistakeably mutually-in-love behaviour, he might have even believed them. Since the incident, Fitz had been prone to panic in tight spaces, but now that Simmons had returned, that was just one of the many symptoms fading into nothing. If anything, he was developing quite a penchant for tight spaces, so long as he was accompanied by his extremely attractive fellow scientist.

A charitable spirit came over Coulson. "Alright," he nodded. "But I can only spare you one more hour. Then we'll need you both back on deck in the lab."

It took quite a bit of his training and self-control not to laugh out loud at the four wide eyes gazing back at him.

"Oh, and Fitz?" he called over his shoulder as he turned away.

"Yes, sir?"

"I think you must have missed a button this morning."

Fitz's face, which had only just regained something akin to its usual shade, flushed to beet as he scrambled to do up his open shirt.

Jemma raised the window. Once obscured, she turned to her clandestine lover. "Fitz?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think we just got caught?"

Fitz grimaced. "I don't think Coulson's easily fooled."

"Especially not by me," Simmons laughed sheepishly. "So why walk away and give us another hour?"

"Well," Fitz grinned, reaching to gather her back into his arms. "My claustrophobia _is_ improving."

"Hmph," Jemma snorted, half laughing. "If anything we'll need to watch that you don't suddenly go the other way."

"Agoraphobia?" Fitz sounded sceptical. "I'm only keen on broom closets when you're the one pulling me into them. I'm pretty sure the same would apply to wide open spaces."

Simmons rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Your recovery has been amazing, Fitz, everyone says so."

"And it started the moment you came back to me." He tightened his hold of her. "I can handle anything if you're by my side."

She turned her face upwards for a kiss. In the fleeting instant before he leaned down to oblige her, he studied her familiar features from this newly intimate angle. The sweetness of her expression, eyes closed, smiling contentedly as she awaited the touch of his lips on hers, caused his heart to almost burst within him. Until he acknowledged the depths of his feelings for Jemma, he had been a bit baffled in so many stories and movies. Until he knew this woman, he had had never quite understood the crazy things that people did for love. Now he kissed her with the tenderness and passion of a boy suddenly grown, remembering that he had done all those crazy things himself for this woman in his arms. With the refreshing calm and clarity that only her presence could bring him, he knew that he would do them all again, continuing to hold even his own life loosely for the sake of her survival, her thriving, her happiness.

Of course it was at that precise moment that Skye got nostalgic for the old days in her van and decided to snuggle with her laptop into her old refuge in the back of the SUV.

"Wo," she muttered, turning away before she even absorbed the scene before her. "Sorry, I didn't realise this seat was taken!" She slammed the door behind her.

A moment passed, then two, of Fitz and Jemma clutching one another, eyes tightly shut as they waited for the moment of impact.

Skye suddenly stopped. They could hear her through the bullet-proof glass. "Wait… WHAT!?" And a second later the door swung open again. There was nowhere they could hide. First Coulson, now Skye…

"Fitzsimmons?" her face was incredulous.

They could only smile sheepishly back at her.

Skye grinned. "About damn time."


	3. Chapter 3

_Leaving behind my last two AU chapters, this little one-shot stands on its own after "Face My Enemy" and depicts what I would like to see happen in whatever comes next! I suppose that in the meantime there would have to have been be some sort of HYDRA trauma for poor Simmons to go through and then this could be the fallout._

_This story is set straight after S2, E3 in which Fitz declared to Hunter and Mac: "So I don't have an ex, but there was this girl I like and I told her how I felt, but she doesn't feel the same way as I do, so she left." _

_And, of course, I just couldn't leave it at that. I had to do this instead:_

Fitz lay in his bunk on The Bus later that night, dissecting the first "friendly" conversation he'd had with anyone in a long time. Conversations with Hologram Simmons (as he'd come to think of her, inspired by all the _Red Dwarf_ they'd watched back at the Academy) didn't count. Hunter and Mac were nice enough, and it was gratifying to hear Hunter say he'd saved their lives. It just didn't really feel all that triumphant to Fitz…

All he could think about was the confession he'd made in an attempt to join in on the team bonding at Hologram Simmons' behest …_there was this girl I like and I told her how I felt, but she doesn't feel the same way as I do, so she left…_

Firstly, _this girl_. How could he have referred to Simmons so casually? So flippantly? She was no mere girl. She may have loved homework more than life itself and been less than encouraging about his dream of one day owning a pet monkey, but she was his motivation in everything. He was only the boy genius everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knew him to be, or at least used to know him to be, because of what her enthusiasm and friendship had brought out in him. At the very least she was his best friend in the world. He couldn't merely reduce her to "this girl I like." But he had no idea as to how to go about rectifying that with Mac and Hunter.

The next bit was more heartbreaking to contemplate …_I told her how I felt, but she doesn't feel the same way as I do…_ There was nothing to be flippant about there either. Not much made sense in his brain the way it used to, but the one memory he held with vivid, three-dimensional, surround-sound accuracy was what had happened between him and Jemma in the moments before he blew the window out of their would-be underwater tomb.

_Why would you make me do this? You're my best friend in the world!  
>Yeah, you're more than that, Jemma. I couldn't find the courage to tell you. So, please... let me show you.<em>

She'd embraced him, she'd kissed him over and over, and next thing he knew, she was gone.

…_so she left…_

He nestled into his bunk, drawing his knees up to his chest. Him loving her meant that he could _never_ leave her. So she mustn't love him. If she'd loved him, she'd never have left. He just wished he could know _where _she had gone, what she was doing, if she was safe.

So, yeah, as for moving on as Hunter and Mac suggested? Not a chance. He'd be loving Jemma forever, he didn't even have a choice in the matter. He was a loyal old dog.

He heard his bunk door slide open and then closed. Hologram Simmons was back. He sighed. She wasn't nearly as good as the real thing. In fact, she was getting a bit preachy for his liking.

"Fitz?" she whispered.

"I know you're not really here, Jemma," he shook his head. "So you should just go. I have _got _to stop talking to myself, otherwise I'll never be able to make friends like you're always harping on about."

"Fitz?" she repeated. "It's me."

He rolled over to look at her. Something was different. Her hair was different, it was out of its neat ponytail. Instead it looked sort of wild. And the navy jumper with the little white collar was gone, replaced with a black jacket. Hologram Simmons had changed her outfit! Fitz wondered what that might mean for the state of his brain.

Her face wasn't as composed or as smiley as usual. If anything, Hologram Simmons, standing hesitantly against the door to his bunk, looked positively distraught.

"Fitz, I'm back." Tears began to roll down her face. "Can I…?" she gestured to his bed.

Fitz looked back at her, confused. Hologram Simmons had never wept or tried to climb into his bed before. Was this a good sign or a bad sign? Regardless, he dutifully shuffled over.

Simmons clambered into the bed with him and nestled her head into his shoulder. He wound his arms around her and held her as she wept, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair. It was strange, though a lovely sort of strange, that Hologram Simmons had suddenly become so much more tactile and tangible. He even imagined that he could feel her wet tears on his skin.

"I'm probably losing my mind entirely," he mused to himself, stroking Hologram Simmons' thick hair. "Oh well," he smiled. "At least this is quite nice. There would be much worse ways to go off the deep end."

"You're not losing your mind, Fitz," Hologram Simmons murmured into his neck. "I had to get home, and you're the only home I know."

"You know what, Hologram Simmons?" he said, kissing the top of her head but knowing he was talking to no one but himself. "I think I'm going to let you stay as long as you like tonight. I know you're not her, but this may be the closest I ever get to holding her in my arms like this."

Hologram Simmons let out a sigh that sounded more frustrated than contented. "Fitz!" she cried into his shoulder. "Do you know how heart-breaking it is to be desperately in need and to not even be acknowledged by the person that you love?"

"Yup," he nodded. "I know all about it. Sucks doesn't it."

He suddenly felt a searing pain in his neck. He yelled out.

Hologram Simmons sat up and lent over him as he clapped his hand to the sore spot. Her eyes looked a bit wilder than usual. "Do you know what just happened, Fitz?"

"No," he retorted, rubbing his neck. "But I've changed my mind about you staying!"

"Has Hologram Simmons ever bitten you before?"

"No, come to mention it. She's always been very polite."

"So what do you make of the sudden change?" Hologram Simmons sounded a little bit snippy.

"I don't know!" Fitz shouted, covering his face. "She's not even here! I'm stuck with the best my brain can do at conjuring her up! I don't know anything anymore!"

He felt his head being gently cradled, his hair being stroked away from his forehead. He felt her warm breath as she whispered into his ear. "How am I going to prove to you that it's really me, Fitz? That I'm here and that I need you?"

"When I can see that the others see you," he shrugged, muttering pointlessly to a figment of his imagination.

In an instant, he felt his head drop back on the mattress and heard his bunk door slide open. Hologram Simmons was gone. He found his pillow, pulled his blanket up to his chin and curled back into a ball of self-pity.

About five minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching his bunk. He rolled over and saw that his bunk door was inexplicably open. Coulson stepped into view, followed by Mac and Hunter. Behind them hovered Hologram Simmons, just as she always did.

"Fitz," Coulson began, "At 0300 hours, we intercepted a HYDRA transfer. They were moving an asset that we value extremely highly. Hunter took point and Mac secured the asset." He turned to where Hologram Simmons stood and reached out his arm. She stepped forward.

Fitz blinked in surprise as Coulson held Hologram Simmons' arm, as if she possessed corporeal reality, and addressed him intently. "Fitz? Do you understand me? This _is_ Simmons. She's real. She's safe. We have her back."

Fitz's shock was palpable. He gaped like a goldfish at Coulson and then at Simmons – the _real_ flesh-and-blood Jemma Simmons.

"Fitz?" Coulson demanded. "Simmons has been through a heck of a lot. Right now she needs you. Do you understand me?"

He nodded vigorously, unable to quite find his voice. He held out his hand to Jemma and she took it, grasping his warm fingers with her trembling, icy ones. His eyes sought hers. "You've really come back to me?"

Coulson, Mac and Hunter each took a step or two backwards and then turned to leave them alone.

She smiled a very small, very tentative smile, as if it had been a long time since anything had warranted one. "I said it before but you didn't believe me. Fitz, you are _home_ to me, and home is where I desperately need to be."

Fitz sat back on the bed and Jemma sat next to him, still gripping his hand. "Will you… will you hold me while I sleep, Fitz?" she whispered.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Can you tell me where you've been?" he asked.

"Not tonight," she shook her head. "And maybe not for a little while. But I do want to tell you everything when I'm ready."

Fitz slid the bunk door closed and then manoeuvred himself into the bed, allowing Jemma plenty of room to lie next to him. Once more she snuggled against him, her head buried in the crook of his neck. Once more he wound his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"There is one thing I have to tell you," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"I never got to tell you before I left."

"Tell me what?" Fitz waited quietly for her to speak, feeling afraid for her, unsure of what she'd been through while they were apart.

"Look at me, Fitz," she whispered, and he shuffled himself back until they both rested their heads on Fitz's pillow, facing one another.

She was so close, and she was real. Fitz couldn't help but beam at her, despite his fears for her well-being. He found her tiny hand again, and reached for the other, holding them both within his large warm hands.

"Being my best friend in the world isn't nothing, you know," she began.

Fitz smiled encouragingly, despite the pang he felt at her words.

"But it isn't _all_ that you are to me."

He wasn't quite sure what to do with his face while she paused before going on.

"I _am_ in love with you, Fitz," she said. "I feel _exactly_ the same way about you that you feel about me."

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"And when they asked me what I felt I would need for my recuperation," she went on, gently wiping away his tear with the pad of her thumb, "I said that all I wanted was to be with you and to be guaranteed that I would never be required to be parted from you again."

Now that he had finally let them start, his tears flowed unchecked. "That's what I need for my recuperation too!" he half laughed.

"Coulson agreed," she said, smiling. "He said the best work S.H.I.E.L.D. has got from us has been when we've been together."

"So, hang on." Fitz shook his head in disbelief. "What does that mean?"

She laughed for the first time in a very long time. "We're _officially _Fitzsimmons now. We're a S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioned package deal."

"I never have to be without you again?" he whispered.

"And I never have to be without you," she whispered back. "Like I said, you're my home and I'm home to stay."

Fitz reached out for her, drawing her close. "I love you, Jemma." He chuckled to himself. "There, I said it."


	4. Chapter 4

_So, I can't read any stories, I can't even Google AOS for fear of spoilers - we're a little behind in my part of the world. Last night I finally saw S2E05 - A Hen in the Wolf-House. I can see that next episode there's gonna have to be some Fitzsimmons developments. I don't get the vibe that they're necessarily going to be ones that I'll enjoy. Anyway, far be it from me to discourage anyone from writing reviews, but if you do (and of course I'll love you forever if you do!) PLEASE don't venture out of the bounds of this episode!_

_As for THIS tiny story that you're about to read, I just ignored what we knew about Fitz recently and re-wrote the scene according to my preferences. Remember, this little By My Side project of mine is all about bringing Fitzsimmons together, and I mean TOGETHER, no matter what the cost in actual details of the show!_

Director Coulson was still talking but Jemma was distracted. Through the glass to her right she could see people and movement in the lab but she couldn't see _him_. She looked back at Coulson with enquiring eyes. He nodded his assent. "Go ahead." He turned his attention back to the others. "Agents Triplett, Morse?" Coulson then led the others down the corridor with his usual sure, determined gait. Simmons felt as though she slunk in comparison as the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance. She wasn't sure if she was up to this.

The lab door creaked slightly at her touch but not enough for the sound to be audible over the whirr of machinery. Once she closed the door behind her, she caught sight of an unmistakable sandy blonde head bent studiously over the bench in the far corner, almost concealed by a large glass-fronted refrigerator full of flasks and vials. Her heart rate skyrocketed and her head felt light. He was right there!

Jemma recalled the last time she'd seen him so many months before - a frightened, frustrated, stuttering wreck of a man. How would things be between them now?

She didn't speak but he must have somehow sensed her presence. He turned his head and looked directly at her. Without taking his eyes off her, he straightened up. She could only return his gaze and wait to see what he would do.

The corners of his lips turned up into a grin and Jemma grinned back, unable to recall how long it had been since she'd seen last him smile like that. He moved towards her with a steadiness, a self-possession that she didn't even remember seeing in him before the attempt on their lives.

In an instant he was right there, so close she could breathe him in. His arms folded her against him and one hand was in her newly cropped hair, holding her in a way that only made her heart beat faster. This was Fitz! He wasn't supposed to be the one to make her feel like this. He was her friend, practically her brother! But she couldn't deny it, something had shifted.

Fitz stepped back, still smiling, to drink her in, one hand on her face, the other resting on the small of her back. Something about it, about him, was too much. She didn't quite feel in control. It was a bit like the previous weekend's party at a HYDRA colleague's house – though Coulson had told her to make friends, and she really was trying, all she had managed to do was drink too much champagne. After that she didn't trust herself to talk to anyone. Now, for the first time ever, she didn't entirely trust herself with Fitz. He didn't seem all that brotherly anymore. Suddenly, he seemed somehow really very attractive and she was decidedly giddy.

She leaned towards him and he noticed. She steadied herself with a palm against his chest and he took that in too. Her eyes closed slightly when he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb and he found it highly gratifying. Something unmistakably different was happening between them and he was loving it.

"Hey, Fitz?" a deep voice boomed from the lab doorway, and the pair of them broke apart as if repelled by a sudden magnetic field. "Gimme a hand with this will you?"

Jemma turned to see an enormous man with his back against the door, pushing his way into the lab, pulling some sort of cumbersome trolley behind him.

"Mac," Fitz said as he held the door back to allow his friend through, "_This_ is Jemma."

Mac looked over his shoulder into the lab and saw Jemma standing there. He grinned. "This is _the_ Agent Simmons? That scientist girl you've been moping about ever since I met you?"

Fitz blushed. "Not exactly moping."

Mac raised his eyebrow at Fitz as he held his massive paw out to Jemma. "I'm Mac. Really pleased to meet you."

"You too," Jemma replied, a little pink in the cheeks herself.

"So, what brings you back to our humble lab?" Mac enquired, manoeuvring the trolley into the spot it clearly belonged.

Fitz turned to look at her with the same interested expression.

She smiled and looked at the ground. "Fitz," she replied. "That and the fact that my HYDRA cover was pretty impressively blown." She raised her eyes and found Fitz gazing at her with that distinctly non-brotherly expression.

Mac looked from Simmons to Fitz and back again. "Err, you know what?" he mused. "I think Tripp and Hunter needed me in The Bus for something round about now."

Fitz nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, I think I remember hearing something about that."

Mac winked at Fitz and then nodded his head toward Jemma. "Good to meet you. Sure we'll get to hang out soon."

"That would be lovely," Jemma called after him as he disappeared out the door and down the corridor.

"So," said Fitz, taking a step towards her, "What were we saying before we were interrupted?"

Jemma grinned. "Actually, I don't think we'd _said_ anything at all."

"Hadn't we?" he asked in a mock-surprised tone, closing the distance between them and taking her once more into his arms. "That's dreadful, that is."

"It was alright by me," she whispered, turning her face up towards him.

Fitz expression grew serious. "I'm better, Jemma. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," she nodded reassuringly, squeezing his arm. "You're amazing, Fitz."

"I can be the man you need me to be now," he offered. "If you'll have me, that is."

Jemma reached up and gripped his tie, just below where his double-windsor met his button-down collar, and yanked him forward so that their lips met with a forceful passion.

When they eventually came up for air, Fitz found his voice. "So that was a yes?" he checked.

She shrugged, grinning. "Oh, I think you'll do nicely."


	5. Chapter 5

_And as I wait impatiently for the next episode to air in my part of the world, I've been entertaining myself dreaming up this little scenario which follows directly on from what you just read in the last chapter. Its only link to "reality" is that Lance Hunter and Bobbi Morse were once husband and wife._

.

Lance Hunter skulked in the darkest corner of the mess hall nursing a deeply unsatisfactory polystyrene cup of something that was _supposed_ to be tea to go with his hangover. He consoled himself with the fact that it was 5am on what would hopefully remain a mission-free Sunday and so it was unlikely that anyone saw him doing the walk of shame after being unceremoniously booted from his ex-wife's bunk. From past experience with these not infrequent alcohol-induced marital reunions, he knew he would only have been laughed at if he so much as suggested they cuddle after. So he curled himself up in the armchair furthest from the kitchen facilities, enjoying the fact that the light bulb above him was out, but otherwise lamenting the poor choices he seemed to continue to make.

After Lance had made it only a third of the way through his dreadful tea, the slap of a bare foot on the polished concrete made him look up. It was Fitz. Looking extremely tousle-haired in his red tartan dressing gown, the eccentric young scientist filled the kettle, clicked it on to boil, retrieved a teapot from somewhere underneath the bench and started spooning proper tea leaves into its cavity. Lance was about to call out to his fellow British citizen for some of the good stuff when it occurred to him that Fitz was whistling. In his limited experience of the young Scot, whistling was quite out of character. He watched a little longer in silence. Fitz had found a tray, filled a milk jug and then left Lance wondering if the poor kid was losing it again – he'd placed not one but _two_ bone china teacups and saucers next to the pot.

The kettle was drawing noisily near to the boil so Lance almost didn't hear the entrance of a third person. It was a young woman he didn't recognise. She was very attractive, with gleaming, shoulder-length chocolate brown hair and she wore blue and white striped pyjamas for whom, it took very little of his powers of deduction to determine, she was clearly not the target demographic. Lance sunk a little deeper into his chair to avoid detection.

The woman wandered right up to Fitz and Lance almost choked on his tea when he saw her press herself against Fitz's tartan-clad back and wind her arms around his waist.

"Good morning," she murmured, placing a kiss on the back of his neck. "I got a bit of a fright when I woke up alone just now!"

Sequestered in his dark hiding spot, Lance felt his jaw drop open.

"I thought maybe you'd be in the lab but it seems we both made a beeline for the same thing," she continued, laughing.

"Did you really think I would just wander off to the lab after the night we've just had?" asked Fitz grinning, incredulous in his thick accent. He turned, gathering her into his arms, and kissed her tenderly before noticing her apparel. "Wow. I'm pretty sure the stripey jammies Mum sent me have never looked this good!"

She obliged him with a little twirl.

He went on, reaching for the freshly boiled kettle. "Anyway, I was _trying_ to bring you a cup of tea in bed."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you, Fitz," the woman cooed.

He laughed as he tipped the steaming water into the teapot. "Well, it wasn't _only_ for your benefit. It was a bit of wish fulfilment on my part too."

"How so, Fitz?"

"You'll laugh at me."

She grinned. "Aren't I always laughing at you?"

"That's true, isn't it," he nodded, smiling. "Well, I've kept up this sort of daydream for ages now. I suppose it came to me around the time I first realised I was in love with you."

Lance's eyes widened. This must be Agent Jemma Simmons, Coulson's source within HYDRA. Well, that explained more than Bobbi would ever have told him herself. But it was nice to see that his fragile new friend _was_ requited by this scientist girl after all. Fitz seemed to have better luck than he was having.

"Ooh, really? A daydream about me, Fitz? Tell me all about it," she urged, wrapping her arms around him once more.

He shook his head, grinning sheepishly. "Well, there's not much to it really," he shrugged. "I guess lots of other chaps would dwell on what happens beforehand but, for me, I've wasted hours, Jemma, _hours_, dreaming about coming back to my bunk early in the morning with tea, just like this. The sun is coming up and starting to stream in the window but you're still curled up asleep in my bed with one arm resting on top of the sheet." As he went on in his lilting storytelling tone, Fitz stroked Jemma's hair back from her forehead. "Your hair is gleaming in the pale sunlight and the skin of your bare shoulders glows against the navy sheets. You stir a little as I slide the bunk door closed and your eyes flicker open. You smile at me and stretch a little before you prop yourself up with a pillow against the wall, sitting cross-legged with the sheet folded across your chest. I pour you a cup of tea and plonk myself cross-legged in front of you on the bed so that our knees are touching." He chuckled to himself "The tray is resting on that little table next to the bed so we can keep filling our cups and we talk and we laugh and we kiss until, at last, we have to get up." Fitz looked down, embarrassed. "Imagining that, imagining you and I together like that, has pretty much kept me going all this time you've been gone."

Hidden in his shadowy spot, Lance wiped away a little tear. Looking back over at the pair by the bench he saw that Fitz's story had had the same effect on Jemma.

"Anyway," Fitz shook his head, placing one hand on the teapot and making as if to pour a cup.

Jemma reached out a hand to stop him, shaking her head emphatically. "No way," she said. "We're not drinking tea in this dingy old mess after _that_."

A smile slowly spread across Fitz's features.

"Give me a thirty second head-start. I'll throw these pyjamas of yours back on the floor where I found them and you'll find me asleep in your bed exactly as you described," she said over her shoulder, already half way out the door.

Lance could only watch as Fitz leant back against the bench a while, eyes closed, biting his lip, his posture one of blissful anticipation. He then watched the younger man flick his eyes to the clock and then to the door before carefully lifting the laden tray and padding out the door with it.

He momentarily pondered how it would be received if he tried to do the same for Bobbi. He imagined her breathing fire and burning him to a crisp. Perhaps he'd be more careful with his heart on the next go round.

He grinned to himself. He may have been having a spectacularly crappy morning, but he knew that Fitz was having the time of his life. With tea for goodness sake. That kid clearly needed to get out more…


	6. Chapter 6

_SPOILER ALERT After the events of S2E6, would any of you be surprised to hear that the latest instalment of my little By My Side project (in which I was TRYING to find a way to get Fitzsimmons together, and I mean TOGETHER at the end of each episode of S2) doesn't exactly fit the Romance/Comedy categories?_

_._

Jemma Simmons could not sleep. She couldn't even tell which loomed larger in her mind, the words she heard coming out of her own mouth with which she promised to kill Grant Ward? Or the accusation from Fitz that struck to the heart of her deepest confusion and shame – her leaving him alone, giving up on him.

The two were linked, of course. Grant Ward had written himself indelibly into her story, into Fitz's story, and, in doing so, perhaps struck out forever the little burgeoning bud of a story that entwined the two of them together beyond the bounds of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the lab. She wiped away a tear. She had loved that little bud of a story and still kept it well-tended in the quiet spaces of her imagination. It had been the deepest desire of her heart that she would return to find Fitz his old self again and that the two of them could pick up where they left off – that he loved her, that she loved him, that they weren't trapped in a box at the bottom of the sea.

And for that reason, she knew that what she said to Ward was no empty threat. He had robbed from her, perhaps forever, the thing she held most dear.

As if she didn't have enough haunting her, she couldn't quite leave behind the disquieting effect of what Mac had said to her either. _The only thing that makes him worse is you. _His words had echoed Fitz's pain and caused it to reverberate inside her. How could she ever forgive herself for taking what, at the time, seemed the only possible course of action? How could she have walked away from him? And worse of all – had she stayed, would he have recovered? Would he have returned to his old self? Would she have been sleeping in his arms tonight instead of lying awake, so intensely alone?

Mac seemed to suggest that it was her very longing for her old friend that was the source of the problem. But she doubted if it was even in her power to stop wanting him back. Was Fitz right? Could she just not accept that he was different now? _That guy you're wishing he would be._ He had still found the intel they needed, he still saw and understood what no one else saw. There was so much of the old him still there. But maybe Mac was right. Maybe she needed to start again, to get to know this different Fitz and learn to love him for who he was now.

She rolled over and looked at the clock. Neon green digits, 0345, blinked back at her. She sat up. There was no point continuing with this sleep charade any longer. She needed tea. She shrugged on her navy hooded robe and padded down to the mess.

Steaming teacup in her hand at last, she wandered the empty corridors of the base. As if drawn there, she found herself outside the door of the cell she had looked into every morning from the safety of surveillance cameras. Now it lay empty. She took a deep breath. Nothing to fear.

She pushed the door open. No electronic locks held it fast. She walked slowly down the staircase, her eyes on her tea. She almost couldn't believe she'd really find the cell empty.

It wasn't.

On the floor, leaning cross-legged against the chair facing the cell that once contained Ward, sat Fitz. She hesitated. She almost turned on her heels and left but something compelled her to stay. He didn't turn to look but he seemed to know that she was there. She padded down the stairs and slipped into the seat beside him. Without speaking she offered him her cup. He took it silently and drank before handing it back.

"Fitz?" she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't move.

"Can you forgive me?"

He stayed perfectly still a moment longer, then gave a slight nod.

She slid out of the chair and sat beside him on the floor, seeking his eyes. "I just want to be with you, Fitz. That's all."

He looked up at her a moment, surprised, hopeful. Then his face fell. "But, Jemma, I'm not who I was."

"You don't have to be," she whispered, reaching over to take his hand in hers. "Just be who you are."

"And you'll stay?" Fitz had lost even his limited ability to guard his emotions. All his vulnerability was etched into his face.

She squeezed his hand. "I'll be right here."

.

_Sorry, not even an attempt to be funny at the end here. It seems to me that the further we go on with this season, the less likely it'll be that we'll ever see what I'm hoping for! Anyway, let me know what you think - who doesn't love reviews, right? And please, if you do review, no spoilers! I've seen nothing after this episode!_


	7. Chapter 7

_After a little bit more thought, the road to a happily-ever-after for Fitzsimmons from the end of S2E6 didn't seem quite so impossible to imagine after all. So ignore what you read in the last chapter and rewind your imagination back to the end of the actual "A Fractured House" episode. This chapter is yet another crack at securing a happy ending for our beloved nerds…_

_._

Fitz was never more conscious of how much time he spent curled up with Hologram Simmons than in the heart-pounding moments that the real flesh-and-blood Jemma wandered into the lab. It was like he forgot (though of course he didn't) each time she turned and walked out, that she was back, that she was home, that she was real. Hologram Simmons, with her wily illusion of comforting pressure on his shoulder, was, as she kept reminding him, a manifestation of his own subconscious, nothing more than a daydream. And of course he _knew_ that, it was _his_ subconscious after all, but a comforting habit is a hard one to break.

He and Hologram Simmons were just in the midst of discussing something or other about the activities of the growing team when the lab door opened and there she was – the real thing – carrying two cups of tea. As per usual, his heart started hammering and he had that familiar and yet no less striking sensation that his stomach had dropped to somewhere in the region of his knees.

Jemma made her way towards him, placed the tea cups down and pulled up a chair – so close, he noticed as she sat, that her knee rested against his. Whatever subtlety he once possessed was gone, he couldn't help but stare at it, but she stood her ground. The two of them busied themselves drinking tea for a moment before Jemma spoke.

"Yesterday you said you needed someone to talk through what happened," she said, resting her teacup on the bench. "Do you want to do that now?"

Fitz contemplated her offer. Of all the people he spent any time with, he knew he was at his worst with Jemma. He knew why too. It was because no one made him want to be quick and smart and funny and dazzling more than her. And when all of the effort it took for him to simply form a sentence was being channelled into trying to form it wittily, he got tied in knots. And the knots only got more tangled because he could see how much he was worrying her. He could see the tears shining in her eyes when he got flustered. He knew that she despaired for him. And all he wanted her to do was love him.

The frustration and pain of it all overwhelmed him. He could feel the hot tears spilling down his cheeks but he was powerless to stop them. And then Jemma did the strangest and yet most obvious thing. She reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder. He instinctively placed his hand on top of hers. Then the floodgates opened. He was sobbing.

Jemma took his hand and led him out of the lab. He followed her blindly. Down winding corridors and up flights of stairs they went until she pushed open a heavy door and led Fitz out into the bright sunshine. He wiped his eyes on the cuffs of his cardigan and squinted around as he adjusted to the light.

They were on the roof. She led him to a corner of the roof top and sat down, leaning against the brickwork of the barrier and patting the ground next to her. Fitz sat dutifully and she immediately took hold of his hand.

"Fitz, this is complicated for me. Will you hear me out?"

He nodded, bracing himself for the inevitable, devastating impact he'd been expecting ever since she returned, of her telling him she was leaving him for good.

"When I see you struggling, you think you know what I'm thinking." She paused a moment. "But you don't."

He looked back at her sceptically.

"You think I'm mourning for the old you, don't you?"

There was no hope of him hiding his desperate desire to hear her contradict that deep-seated conviction. And yet he felt utterly unable to believe anything else. He nodded.

Jemma sighed. "Fitz, I know that having me around seems to make you worse."

_Here it comes_, he thought. He shrugged, keeping his red eyes focused on the paving stones in front of him.

"And I think I know why."

He turned to face her, intrigued to hear what she'd say.

"Fitz, all the things you said to me, all the things you accused me of – that I've given up on you, that I think you're useless, that I can't accept that you're different – they're not really about me, are they?" she asked gently. "That's not what's going on in my head, and I think you know it."

He shifted uncomfortably but heard in her words a speck of hope he could cling onto.

"I think I'm the one you find it hardest to spend time with because you don't let _yourself _just be who you are with me. You said that _I_ can't accept that you've changed but I think it's _you_ that's struggling to accept it. And I think you get flustered in front of me because we've been partners for so long and you think it affects me more than the others. _You_ want to be your old self and you're afraid that I'll reject you now that you're not."

Jemma was so characteristically astute in her analysis that Fitz didn't know whether it was agony to have been so thoroughly seen through or relief to have been so compassionately understood. His tears fell afresh.

"I only left you because I was following orders. Coulson could see the effect that I had on you and we thought that maybe you'd be better without me for a while, maybe you'd be able to learn to adapt better without the added pressure you were placing on yourself to be your old self."

She placed her other hand over his and held it tight. "Fitz,' she continued gently, "Of all the people you should feel totally safe with, it should be me, shouldn't it? We've chosen to spend every day together, since that very first day we met at the Academy – don't you remember?"

He nodded, allowing himself a tiny smile.

"I would never agree to be parted from you for good, you know," she grinned. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

Just hearing those words from her healed his heart. All of a sudden, the relief of being so transparent far outweighed the agony. But Jemma hasn't said all she had to say.

She continued so quietly, he almost couldn't hear her. "I see the cost of what you did for me, Fitz," she said, her face now wet with tears. "I haven't forgotten that you were ready to sacrifice your life for mine." She paused, squeezing his hand again. "I could never forget what it feels like to be loved like that."

He looked up sharply.

She smiled at him through her tears. "I'm actually sort of hoping to be loved like that for the rest of my life."

Fitz wasn't sure he knew what he was hearing. He found his voice at last. "Have you… um…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you got a shortlist of potentials then?"

Jemma nodded. "It's an extremely short list."

"It is?"

"Fitz," she whispered, turning to look at him. "It's you."

"Brilliant," he breathed, almost dizzy with amazement. This was not at all where he had predicted the conversation going.

He felt her gaze on him. She was right there. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to navigate the 180 degree about-turn from rejected best-friend to romantic hero. He glanced sideways. She was smiling sweetly back at him. He thought he could probably manage it.

Fitz turned to face her. "Hi," he said.

She giggled. "Hi, Fitz."

He glanced down at her lips. He did happen to have a very large back catalogue of daydreams that dwelt on a wide range of variations on this very scenario. He took a deep breath. He could probably harness some of that for a moment like this.

He couldn't tell if it were just his imagination or if Jemma really did move a little closer. Either way, there was a new inevitability at play. He wasn't going to be dumped. He was going to be _kissed_. It would have to have been the best turn up for the books in the history of anything. Other than perhaps the Ice Age. He shook his head. No, this was no time for science. He decided he wouldn't say that out loud. Jemma would argue that it was _always_ time for science and there'd be a risk that the exciting kissing possibility would be derailed, just when it was humming along so nicely.

Jemma saw Fitz shake his head and wondered what exactly it was that was going on in there. In the past she would have bet money on her ability to read his mind but now she couldn't be quite sure. It was a little bit refreshing to find him suddenly unpredictable. Whatever it was, though, she was determined that they weren't leaving that rooftop without a kiss. She leaned a tiny bit closer.

This time, he caught her at it. He harnessed all of his courage and leant forward too.

Their lips met with a tentative softness. It felt like finally letting go of a breath they'd each been holding for as long as they could remember.

Jemma smiled at Fitz's blissful expression.

He opened his eyes slowly. "I had been so sure that I would never find out what it was like to kiss you, Jemma," he whispered. "Every man in the world must be in love with you!"

"That's highly doubtful, Fitz!" she laughed. "But even if it were true, it'd still only be you that I'd want."

Fitz beamed. Then, without warning, he suddenly leapt to his feet and held out his hand to Jemma. She allowed him to help her to her feet. He pulled her close, as he had in his daydreams, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly, winding a hand into her hair.

"Oh, Fitz," she giggled, as they broke apart. "I feel quite weak at the knees!"

"You do?" he asked, surprised and delighted.

"Actually, now that you ask, I'm not quite sure." She looked at him cheekily. "Kiss me again?"

He grinned, taking her once more into his arms. "Whatever you say, Simmons."


	8. Chapter 8

**WARNING: SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR S2E10! **_After "Ye Who Enter Here" and "What They Become" I feel a glimmer of hope is in the air for our beloved nerds. The fact that I'm fixated on them when they are clearly not the focus of the plot right now just goes to show the depth of my devotion and hopefully goes some way to explaining why I must continue to write stuff like what follows. We catch a glimpse of Fitz and Jemma clinging to one another in the dying moments of the episode. Here's what I like to think might happen next. _

_Be warned: I felt that this was getting pretty cheesy so I went the whole hog and turned it into a By My Side Fitzsimmons Christmas Special mid-way through. I hope that lets me off the hook for the total shift in mood that suddenly surprises (and probably horrifies) you._

It hadn't escaped Fitz's attention that though they had initially clung to one another in that Oh No, We're About To Die sort of a way, an hour later, finally walking safely up the ramp of The Bus with all present and accounted for bar the tragic loss of Tripp, Jemma still held tightly on to him and seemed to require him to reciprocate. Despite the hammering of his heart reminding him how much his whole being revelled in her closeness, he was starting to feel a little self-conscious now the others were gathered around. He was sure he'd even seen Mack wink at him.

What a relief it was to see Mack alive, returned to his old self. But what a wrench to watch a distraught Skye trying to explain the circumstances of Tripp's death to the team. Fitz had seen Tripp as a threat from the start, but the guy had grown on him. How could he blame Tripp for simply loving the same amazing woman that he loved? And in a way, he owed Tripp a debt of gratitude. Fitz knew that without being shocked into jealousy by Tripp's open flirtation with Jemma, he might never have admitted his true feelings to himself, let alone to her.

Why was it always the near death experiences that threw them together? he found himself musing. Was this just going to be another moment he'd look back on with longing once reality had settled back in? Well, there was no point in being self-protective, he reflected. He'd put it all out there and there was no going back – if Jemma needed him, he would be there for her until she didn't need him any longer.

He felt her hesitate as they entered the body of the plane. Fitz determined to lead her to her bunk. He knew she'd be exhausted after all they'd been through. Her body relaxed as he moved them forward, trusting herself to his confident lead. What a reversal, he thought to himself. He who had been so reliant on others for direction for so long, being lent on and needed by Jemma of all people.

As they approached her bunk he finally felt he needed to face the truth. What he was seeing in Jemma's behaviour here had very little to do with him. For all he knew, Tripp and Jemma had secretly been together all this time. For all he knew, this semi-catatonic state she was in was due to her grief at the loss of her lover or at least someone she'd hoped might someday be. How would he broach it with her? How could he communicate to her that he was there for her anyway, as long as she needed him? How could he ensure she knew that he wasn't in it for himself?

He stopped outside the black glass sliding door of her bunk and waited. She didn't move.

"Do you want me to open the door for you?" he asked gently.

She nodded.

He disentangled himself from her embrace to get his good arm free so that he could slide open the heavy door. All the parts of his body that she'd been pressed against felt suddenly cold. He stood to one side so that she could enter. She didn't move.

"Jemma?" he whispered.

She raised her eyes to his.

"Can I get you anything? Can I do anything for you?"

She contemplated him a moment.

"Well… Goodnight," he started to say, stepping backwards, but she reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Fitz," she whispered urgently, the first sound he'd heard her make in what seemed like eons. "Stay?"

He was sure he'd misheard her. He looked back at her uncertainly.

"Will you stay with me?" she repeated. "Please, Fitz?"

He glanced quickly over each shoulder to see if anyone was watching. It seemed ludicrous to him that he was even conscious of anything but Jemma, but he didn't want anyone to think that Tripp didn't matter to him. He looked into her pleading eyes. Jemma mattered more.

He nodded, gesturing for her to go in ahead of him. "Of course."

She fleetingly shot him a grateful smile and slipped into the bunk.

Their quarters were relatively cramped on the bus. They each had room for a narrow bed, a built-in table with drawers and some overhead storage space for clothes and personal effects. Jemma's bunk spent a long time empty during her stint with HYDRA and she had only just moved back. In contrast to Jemma's stark living quarters, Fitz's well lived-in bunk was a pigsty. He had diagrams and notes scribbled on scraps of paper and stuck all over his walls, most of his clothes lay on the floor – all cardigans – his bedside table was covered in used teacups and he was fairly sure he'd lost a plate of toast and marmalade in there sometime in the last week.

Jemma plonked herself onto the bed and Fitz, after sliding the door closed and hesitating a moment, sat himself down next to her. She immediately rested her body weight back against him, resuming the posture the two of them had held most of the afternoon. Before his brain kicked in and stopped him, Fitz's reflex was to wrap his arms back around her and hold her once more against him. She sighed, almost contentedly.

Fitz thought it was probably as good a time as any to have his heart completely crushed. "I should have realised that you and Tripp were together, Jemma. I'm so sorry that he's gone."

She shook her head.

Fitz didn't want to invite her to talk about her feelings for Tripp. He didn't want to know anything about it. But he did want to be there for her. There was a long silence.

"All the thoughts swirling around in my head are abominable," she whispered suddenly. "I couldn't trust myself with the others tonight – I'd be bound to blurt it all out."

"You can say anything you want to me, you know," Fitz offered.

"Well, you have to hear it," she said matter-of-factly, turning to look into his eyes. "And I know I can trust you."

Fitz steeled himself to hear all about Tripp.

"You're going to be horrified."

"I won't Jemma. It's ok."

She looked unconvinced but charged ahead. "You know what I thought when I heard that Tripp was dead?"

"What did you think?"

She looked down. "I thanked the God I don't even believe in for what Ward did to you."

Her words hit him like a knife. He stiffened, loosening his hold on her.

She turned and saw the hurt shock on his face. She started explaining, the words pouring out of her. "Fitz, I know that if you had been fully confident in your abilities, and you heard that Skye and Coulson were down in those tunnels, you would have disappeared back down there with Tripp to disarm the explosives." A sob escaped her. "We wouldn't just be mourning for him tonight, we'd be mourning for you too, and my heart would be broken."

It took a moment for the implication of her words to filter through his initial hostility. "But I thought you…"

"I was never in love with him, Fitz."

"You weren't?"

She looked down at her hands. "Tripp was an amazing man, and, of course, I'm devastated that he's gone, but losing him has made me realise how much I couldn't survive losing you."

"We've been through this before, remember?" Fitz smiled sadly. "I'm your best friend in the world."

Jemma shook her head, smiling. "You're more than that, Fitz."

He looked back at her, hearing the echo in her words, but not fully computing their meaning.

"I told Bobbi just this morning that I was confused, that when you said those words to me I'd never thought of you beyond who you were as my friend but that I couldn't imagine my life without you."

Fitz smiled hopefully.

"We lost Tripp only hours ago and in those hours, some things have become very clear. I know now that losing _you_ would kill me, and not just because I'd be losing my best friend. If it had been you…" Jemma broke down at the thought, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing.

"Shhh, Jemma," Fitz whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want you to be a hero, Fitz. And I don't want you to go to the garage. I want you with me, leading the Science Division. I need you there. We can still work together. We did this morning, remember?"

"Hang on, Jemma," Fitz interjected. "Can we just go back a step?"

"Back to when I told you I was in love with you too?" She twinkled at him through her tears.

"So that _was_ what happened just then?" he asked, smiling.

Jemma nodded. "I loved Tripp like a brother, but realising my feelings for him were sisterly meant I had to work out how to understand my feelings for you." She looked away a moment. "My feelings for you _aren't_ sisterly, Fitz."

Fitz didn't fail to catch the intriguing emphasis on the word "aren't" – he looked forward to experiencing how that might work itself out in practice.

They were already wrapped tightly in one another's arms. Leaning in so that their lips could meet was the easiest, most natural thing in the world, though the simplicity of the movement couldn't hope to minimise the fireworks that exploded in each of their nervous systems.

The biologist in Jemma was utterly unprepared for the rush that was her first personal experience of oxytocin. Even Fitz, who'd been in touch with his feelings for so long, was stunned by the intensity of the sensation of finally getting to kiss her. He felt almost drunk with it.

But the pain of losing one of their own forced them back into reality. The sadness on the plane permeated the entire atmosphere. They broke apart.

Fitz stroked her face. "I better just go and see if anyone needs us for anything, hey?"

Jemma nodded. "But if they don't," she added, "Remember that I need you here."

Fitz smiled. "I'm not very likely to forget that, am I?"

"Do you think Tripp would be happy for us, Fitz?" Jemma asked.

Fitz shook his head. "If I were him and I had to see you in someone else's arms, "happy" would not be the word I would choose." He thought for a moment. "But if I were him, and there was any sort of afterlife in which I'd be conscious of what was going on here, I'd like to think that I'd be happy to see you happy, however it came about."

"Well, as you've probably gleaned," Jemma sighed, "I am the most mixed-up mess of emotion right now, mainly because I feel guilty about how deliriously happy I feel."

Fitz chuckled. "I second that emotion."

Jemma looked at him quizzically.

"Sorry, that was a little hard to take seriously, wasn't it?"

She nodded, grinning.

"Speaking of things that are a little hard to take seriously, have you noticed today's date?"

Jemma rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have picked you as the sentimental type, Fitz. Surely we can worry about when to celebrate our anniversary later."

Fitz chuckled. "I hadn't given even a thought to anniversaries! I like the idea of it though." He punched a few buttons on his eighties-style computer watch and held it out to her. "No, look.!" He was showing her the calendar function. "What I meant was, it's the 24th December."

"Christmas Eve!" Jemma breathed.

"Precisely," he nodded, smiling.

She looked suddenly miffed.

"What is it?"

"I've never had a boyfriend before, let alone a boyfriend on Christmas Eve. Had I known, I would have showered you with gifts."

Fitz smirked. "I'm suddenly a boyfriend, am I? And _your_ boyfriend at that. That's more than enough of a gift for me, Jemma. Perhaps if we get to have one of those anniversaries you mentioned, you can shower me with gifts next year?"

Jemma beamed. "And I have all this time to plan!"

Fitz stretched himself out on Jemma's bed, resting his arms behind his head. "I can't see S.H.I.E.L.D. caring how many shopping days there are til Christmas, can you? How else did we get to Christmas Eve without even noticing?"

Jemma snuggled herself next to him. "I suppose you're right. We're too busy trying to avoid death and destruction to even get to the sales."

Fitz was silent for a moment, then he sat up. "I better just go and see…"

Jemma nodded. "See, I told you there were terrible thoughts swirling around in my head. I'd better not come with you."

Fitz maneuvered himself off the bed and made as if to slide the door open but seemed to think better of it. He turned back and kneeled beside her. He stroked a strand of hair away from her face. "I can't believe you love me, Jemma."

She smiled. "I do, though. Quite passionately."

He leant forward and kissed her. "And you already know that I love you," he murmured against her lips. "That's been out there for a while now."

"But I don't mind hearing it again," she murmured back. "You should probably tell me every hour or so."

He chuckled. "I thought I was the one with the memory issues."

She gave him an affectionate shove. "That is _not_ why you should keep telling me."

"I know," he whispered, smiling. "I'll need you to tell me every hour or so too." He got to his feet and then leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back soon."

"With tea?"

He nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. With tea."

"And see if Skye needs me, won't you?"

"I think I saw her follow May and Coulson to his office," Fitz replied. "And anyway," he grinned, "_I_ need you, remember?"

"Are you going to tell the others about it being Christmas Eve?" Jemma asked, her face uncertain.

Fitz thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't think it's really the time, do you?"

"Probably not." She suddenly found herself humming the tune of a carol. She had been quite a good singer at school. The words came unbidden.

_A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,_

_For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn._

_Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angel voices!_

_Oh night divine, Oh night, when Christ was born._

_Oh night divine, Oh night, Oh holy night._

Fitz squeezed her hand. "Maybe it's just the right time."

FIN

_Well, have a lovely Christmas, all! May you know that thrill of hope in this weary world, and rejoice!_

_Not sure how long I can keep up this sorry pastime. I think this story is in definite decline. There are only so many ways these two can get together without me just cutting and pasting one story straight into the next! Let's hope the writers will take over and do the hard work of getting them together for me and letting me off the hook! ;)_


End file.
